


lights down low

by sorrlen



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Come Inflation, Coming Untouched, Jealousy, Love Confessions, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mentioned Allura (Voltron), Mentioned Coran (Voltron), Nesting, Pregnancy Kink, Prostate Milking, Rimming, Size Kink, Squirting, Wingfic, did i mention they have wings, it's just a mix of all the things i like oh god, lotsa fluids, the sex is in chapter 2, this takes place about the time after the trials
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-15
Updated: 2020-05-15
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:54:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24197059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sorrlen/pseuds/sorrlen
Summary: “You were dancing for me?” Keith stutters out, and Shiro huffs at him, gently drawing him close. He’s used to having Shiro near, but now the part of him that wants to mate absolutely luxuriates in the feeling of a large arm around his back, daunting Keith with its size.“Only you, baby.”A cacophony erupts in Keith’s mind at those three words, and finally he permits himself to look, encouraged by Shiro’s hand on his cheek. The want in Shiro’s eyes scares him in all the right ways, but Keith needs to be sure.“Just because,” Keith says deliberately, “we’re both going through mating season now doesn’t mean we should, you know, mate.”
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 22
Kudos: 222





	1. put it down on me

**Author's Note:**

> i just wanted to write wingfic and then it became this 12k monster, grossly embedded with all the tropes i like and most of it porn, so make of it what you will. it was just going to be horny but then my brain couldn’t let go of how shiro and keith would definitely take the opportunity to say they love each other, no matter what, in every universe. i'm screaming. they love each other!! ah!!! biggest thanks to my beta [@prettymccree](https://archiveofourown.org/users/prettymccree) and the title is shamelessly plucked from the song i listened to through this, lights down low by maejor.

“Fuck,” Keith mutters as he drops to the ground; his body unable to take the few steps further to his bed. The door clicks shut behind him. Training that morning had been gruelling, and though he was usually the one to hold out the longest, he’d had to drop out first even before Lance. His feathers are matted through uncomfortably with sweat and dust, given the tiring rounds they’d spent in the arena. Shrugging his left wing doesn’t seem to help the unruly secondaries straighten themselves out, so he resigns himself to waiting for a couple of days before the older feathers fall out naturally.

He’d been feeling a strange sense of something he couldn’t quite describe the past few days. Okay, he could, but the closest word he could think of was _fragile_ , and no way was he going to go and see Coran or Allura over some sense of weakness. They’d probably chalk it up to his Galran heritage and he’d rather not be odd one out again, however unintentionally so.

Even Shiro had noticed his drooping wings and asked him to take a break.

But no. He was fine. He probably just needed a little more rest.

\---

He wakes up in a heap of clothing. Lifting a hand blearily to his eyes, Keith sees that practically his whole wardrobe’s been upturned on his head.

“Okay,” Keith says to the empty room. He sits up slowly, and notes that though he’d usually be suffocated and sweaty, the only thing he feels is warm and secure and possibly more well-rested. Most likely some prank by Pidge or Lance. He really needs coffee.

He doesn’t bother to clean up, shoving the piles into a neat heap, and bumps into a solid figure as he exits the room. A hand immediately reaches around his waist to steady him, and Keith is abruptly very conscious of his surroundings.

“Morning, Keith,” Shiro smiles down at him, his eyes creasing at the corners. A warm presence hovers at his shoulder, and he realises that Shiro had instinctively spread an enormous black wing over him. A sense of security, for the second time that morning, rushes over Keith.

“…Keith?” Shiro’s frowning now at Keith’s silence, but it’s quickly replaced with an affectionate look as he notes Keith’s bleary eyes. “Ah, coffee,” he says to Keith, and pulls him gently along the corridor.

“Did you sleep alright? You didn’t come down to dinner, so I sent Lance to check on you. He said you were passed out next to your bed.” Shiro looks him over worriedly. Keith blinks a couple of times as Shiro’s wing withdraws, and so does the sense of being somewhat overwhelmed.

“I slept well,” Keith finally croaks out, and he tucks his molten crimson wings closer to his body. He doesn’t want his feathers to accidentally skim Shiro’s.

“Alright then.” Shiro’s brow furrows, but he lets it go and they talk of lighter things all the way to the kitchen.

The other paladins are there already, with Hunk and Coran serving up a storm of strange pale blue liquid jellies. Thanking them quietly, Keith sits down a little further way from the others, stomach still queasy. Shiro immediately draws up a mug the way Keith likes it, and Keith watches as Shiro unconsciously uses his wing to open and shut drawers, and even fan the scalding liquid to cool it.

His feathers are beautiful, Keith thinks. Agile, downy and nothing like his own; Shiro obviously spends much time maintaining them carefully. Even back in the Garrison, before all this, Shiro unfurling his wings before a take-off had been a visual luxury – a show of abundant grace and strength.

Shiro notices Keith staring and passes him the mug, the corners of his mouth upturning. “Earth to Keith,” he teases, and Keith smiles gratefully at him.

The moment is broken by Lance, who jostles his way to them and perches on the barstool next to Keith. He lets his cobalt wings hang loose and flail in accord whenever he has to say something fervently, which is pretty much all the time.

“So, Red,” says Lance, drawing out the nickname and earning him a glare from Keith. “Why were you sleeping under a mountain of clothes? It took me twenty minutes to find you!”

“Don’t blame me for your bad eyesight,” Keith snarks back, and talks over Lance’s splutters of mock outrage. “Weren’t you the one who decided to bury me in my sleep?”

Lance rolls his eyes. “I have better things to do than that, mullethead.”

“…Under a heap of clothes?” Hunk slowly repeats. “You okay, Keith?”

Everyone’s shooting him those weird looks again. He knows they’re all thinking of yesterday’s training simulation, and the two they had the week before. Keith groans.

“It was probably just a nightmare thing guys, I’m okay,” Keith mumbles into his coffee, and he’s thankful when no one continues to badger him. He can feel Shiro’s watchful eyes on him though. When they rise for another round of training, Shiro firmly clasps his shoulder.

“Keith,” he starts, and Keith already knows what’s coming.

“I know, Shiro,” Keith interrupts gently. “I’ll sit out of this one. Just let me be there.”

“I was actually going to say you should sleep more, but I know I can’t persuade you to.” Shiro extends his wing for a quick hug, and jogs ahead to setup the simulation.

Keith can feel the muscles down his back tense as the soft feathers brush his, and he can’t understand why he can only helplessly stare at Shiro’s disappearing figure down the hall.

\---

When they reach the training arena, they see that Allura’s set up a holoprojection of a clear blue Earth sky, replete with fluffy white clouds.

“No way,” Lance crows, as he immediately unfurls his wings and lifts off into the air, whooping as he performs a series of fancy twirls.

Shiro’s grinning broadly at the obvious delight on all their faces, especially Pidge, who chases after Lance with brisk flaps of her emerald wings. He waves Keith and Hunk over.

“Thought this would make for a good surprise,” he says loudly over Lance and Pidge’s thrilled screams. “You guys must have enough of the training robots.”

Hunk quickly takes off as well, his golden plumage shimmering under the artificial sun’s rays, leaving Keith and Shiro alone together.

Wordlessly, Keith follows Shiro to the nearby bench, and they watch their teammates play a game of catch.

“Sorry, Keith,” Shiro suddenly says, after clearing his throat. “I know you don’t want to fly in front of us anymore.”

Keith’s shocking scarlet feathers had always been an unnatural colour. While he hadn’t let it bother him before, the reveal of his parentage had been enough explanation, as well as disincentive, to put them on display.

“No, no, Shiro,” Keith replies quickly. “They’re having fun. This was- this was a great idea. Just, I thought you might want to join them.”

Shiro huffs out a laugh and rubs over the stump of his right wing. “The wing prosthetic isn’t too easy on my feathers, and it’s not balanced too well. I’ll probably end up more tired than yesterday.” He nods to himself, but Keith sees as Shiro’s eyes trace their teammates through the air.

“Wanna spar instead?” Keith blurts out, wanting anything to distract him.

“Keith,” Shiro turns to him, tone reproachful but light. “You’re supposed to be resting.”

“I’m fine already,” Keith says stubbornly, his mind made up. “Come on, Shiro.”

He pushes Shiro lightly in the direction of some mats, and Shiro raises his hands in surrender.

“Alright, alright,” he concedes, smiling and shaking his head. “Just make sure you stop if you feel uncomfortable, okay?”

Keith nods, and they settle into positions facing each other. He keeps his wings close to his body for balance, and dances a little around Shiro, making him laugh.

Then Keith watches Shiro’s face settle into a serious expression and anticipates the exact move that Shiro carries out; a feint to the side followed by a roundhouse kick. Keith easily sidesteps it, letting his right wing flare out a little to keep him upright.

Shiro’s still staring at Keith’s shoulder, undoubtedly distracted by the rapid flash of red, and Keith chooses that moment to strike. He swipes out his left leg and as Shiro falls to the mat, springing forward to sit on Shiro’s pelvis triumphantly.

His exultation is short-lived, as Shiro grabs hold of his arms. They spend a few minutes grappling, each trying not to give, but Keith finds that his muscles loosen of their own accord as his breathing shallows.

Seizing the opportunity, Shiro takes hold of his elbows and reverses them, such that he’s clamping down hard on Keith’s legs. He runs his hands down Keith’s forearms and pins his wrists to the ground.

Shiro’s face is inches from his own, smile breaking out across his face. He’s breathing hard, heaving, and Keith’s eyes are riveted to the outlines of his large, broad chest beneath. Rivulets of sweat trickle down his neck, and Shiro throws his head back so that the droplets don’t fall onto Keith, exposing his strong, corded neck. The swooping, curved dip of his back practically thrusts his pectorals into Keith’s face, and Keith feels like he’s been punched in the gut.

Then Shiro’s eyes come back down to lock onto Keith’s, and Keith can’t help but smile up at him. The tiredness is gone, washed away the sense of tenderness Keith always feels with his best friend. A sense of safety too, Keith’s brain notes, as he feels himself sink into how Shiro’s solid mass is covering him. Suddenly, he feels like he could sleep for a whole day, and well too.

“-yield, Keith?” Shiro’s voice spins in his ears. He’s smiling wide at Keith, but Keith’s confused, too drowsy by how _deep under_ he feels. His head lolls to the side on the mat.

He feels the muscles in his shoulders and back unclench, and rolls them out, sighing. He also sees the exact moment Shiro’s eyes travel down, and then flit back up to his, locking in to his with alarm.

“Keith,” Shiro falters, and Keith looks as him as though through a haze. He can only smile languidly up at Shiro, stretching his wings out to- to do what? To show Shiro how comfortable he feels, to show him how bright and outstanding his wings are, Keith decides, and fans out his feathers.

“Keith.” Shiro’s voice is tense now, and Keith starts, something inside crumpling as he sees how discomforted Shiro is. It’s his fucking red wings, Keith knows, and he shrinks away from Shiro’s gaze, curling his body inwards. The others have obviously spotted the giant flare that are Keith’s repulsive wings, and have descended, slowly walking towards them.

But the thing that hurts the most is the way Shiro’s eyes, looking at him so openly, had just shuttered. Didn’t they fly together so often before Kerberos? _Not you_ , Keith pleads internally. _Not you too._ He can’t help the tears that squeeze out from between his pinched shut eyelids, and then Keith is unexpectedly in the air.

Not flying, but in the short few seconds that the rest of his teammates took to reach them, Shiro had gently folded his wings, bent them at the elbows, and tucked Keith into his arms. Then he’s shrouded in darkness as Shiro’s wing is brought around to hide him from them.

“What’s going on?” Pidge demands, and Keith jerks away, not wanting to be seen like this. Shiro holds him steadily.

“He’s not feeling too good.” Shiro’s chest moves as he speaks. Keith can hear his throat working and his heartbeat thrumming, almost like a lullaby. He’s exhausted, and the last thing he hears are Shiro’s excuses for him as he slips away.

\---

He’s back in his room when he wakes, still surrounded by his damn clothes. Groaning, Keith shifts. He feels like he’s run a thousand miles.

His clothes aren’t in a mess like before though, and as he looks around himself, he recognises that his clothes have been arranged in something like a circle.

A circle.

A goddamn nest.

That would explain his fatigue, his brain duly notes. He tries to catalogue his behaviour, in an effort to stave off the growing panic, and notices a black and white shirt nestled amongst his own. It’s not his. Keith’s heart races as he reaches out to yank the shirt towards him.

It’s definitely Shiro’s. A hundred thoughts fly through his head as the door chime sounds, and he absently calls out for the visitor to enter.

Shiro’s standing there in the doorway, balancing a tray of snacks and something piping hot.

“Hey, Keith,” Shiro begins, and then his eyes lock onto his shirt, clenched tightly in Keith’s fists.

Keith leaps to his feet, and wills his mouth to move, but the words stick in his throat.

Shiro saves him by gently setting the tray down on his dresser, taking his shirt from Keith.

“How are you feeling?” Shiro hands a cup to Keith, warm milk this time with a biscuit-like thing placed on the side, and Keith’s chest tightens. All this taking care of him, remembering that Keith used to drink milk like this back in the Garrison on bad days and indulging him, makes Keith feel pretty lightheaded.

When Keith simply nods and occupies himself with the milk, Shiro fiddles with his shirt.

“Don’t worry- it’s okay, that you took my shirt,” Shiro tries, and backtracks wildly when Keith stares at him, aghast.

“I mean, you were ill, so when I carried you here, you wouldn’t let go.” Shiro smiles at him. “So I just took it off and left it for you.”

“Shiro, I…” Keith blinks, willing his brain to come up with an explanation that wouldn’t involve the _nest_ part.

“Look, Keith,” Shiro continues, folding his shirt into a neat square and setting it down on the table. “You don’t have to tell me anything, but I’ve been, well, noticing a few things.”

Keith bites his lip as Shiro gestures helplessly to the ring of clothes on the ground.

Crap. Keith hadn’t remembered to mess that up. He makes a move to do so, but he’s stopped by a hand on his shoulder.

“Don’t, Keith. I think you need it right now.” Shiro guides Keith to a sitting position within the nest, and Keith is astounded by how much tension evaporates from his body. He lets his wings unfurl slightly on reflex but squeezes them back quickly as he recalls Shiro’s disapproving face from earlier.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, and Shiro frowns. He’s done it again. Keith needs desperately to take the attention off him, in any way possible.

“I think I should be alone,” Keith blurts out. “You know, for the, for my nesting.”

The moment he says it, something in his chest wrenches hard. It’s not just the nesting. It’s the whole fucking mating period Keith’s talking about, with him alone here, crying out for a fortnight for a mate who won’t come.

“But Keith,” Shiro blurts out, and swallows hard. He looks like he’s choking something back forcibly and takes a slow breath.

“Okay. I’m here for you. How long until it starts?”

Keith’s not sure. The first time he’d gone through the mating time, he’d been delirious. Since then, he’d been fucking back onto toys alone each year, and the pain had been unbearable. In the silence, Shiro sighs, taking the empty cup from Keith. He puts it back on the tray and bustles around a little, sorting Keith’s laundry into the chutes.

It hurts to see him do it, so Keith looks down, studying his palms. Just as Shiro turns to leave, Keith knows he doesn’t want to keep his best friend in the dark.

“Should be about two or three days more.” His quiet voice fills the room. He dares himself to look up and is surprised to find warmth in Shiro’s eyes and a brief smile on his face.

“Thank you for telling me, Keith.”

The door slides shut, and Keith can’t hold it in any longer, he jumps quickly out of his nest and grabs the shirt Shiro had left without taking. He rushes back to the nest and weaves it back into the intricate layering until Keith can’t pick it out.

Only then can he clamber back into the ring, and curl up to sleep.

\---

He wakes to the usual alarm and greets the other paladins in the kitchen. Shiro’s obviously told them something, so they shoot him surprised looks.

“You feeling better?” Pidge calls out from the other end of the counter. She’s narrowing her eyes at him, face inscrutable, and Hunk waves him over and points at a stack of baked goods.

“Yeah,” Keith mumbles, pulling his jacket tight around himself. “I guess Shiro told you, huh?”

“Can’t believe you came down with food poisoning, man,” Hunk shakes his head. “Really sorry about that.”

“None of us did,” Lance points out, edging his way over to get a pastry for himself. “Maybe it’s your Galran digestive system.”

Keith braces himself for the snark to follow, maybe a few pointed remarks, but there’s only silence.

_Shiro lied for him?_

“Uh, yeah,” Keith nods. “It’s nothing. Thanks for always cooking, Hunk.”

“Can’t believe you don’t have to train for a week though,” Lance grumbles. “Maybe I should get food poisoning.”

“Go ahead,” Pidge says, lifting her wing to smack him lightly on the back of his head. “At least we won’t be blinded by your wings anymore.”

Lance inhales sharply, expression completely indignant. “You’d miss my gorgeous wings so much you wouldn’t know what to do with yourself,” he hisses, and jabs Pidge. Keith walks around the other side of the island to avoid the burgeoning tickle-fight and Hunk gestures towards the pastries.

“Take your pick,” Hunk says, putting a hand on Keith’s shoulder. He’s got his wings out, his honey feathers light with satisfaction at his recent bake, and Keith enjoys the cool breeze from his movement. Chewing on his lip, Keith debates internally between the purple quiche and the slime filled puff. He knows that the emptiness in him can’t exactly be filled this way, but he’s damn well going to try for some edible happiness before the next two weeks.

“Keith.” Shiro’s voice rings out. One second he’s standing in the kitchen doorway, and the next he’s at Keith’s side, pulling him away from Hunk. Keith’s sure he imagined the flash of displeasure across his face. His arm comes up and around Keith’s shoulders, a comforting weight, and a little bit of Keith preens.

“I just finished setting up the simulation guys.” Everyone makes their way reluctantly toward the door. Keith makes a sound of protest when he realises he hasn’t taken his breakfast yet, but Shiro ruffles his hair.

“I already got the stuff you’d like,” Shiro says, and Keith nods, not trusting his voice. He lets himself be guided down the hallway, legs a little unsteady. Shiro’s hand slides to his back and remains there for the duration of the walk.

They find the training arena set up in a fashion similar to yesterday’s, only the blue sky’s been substituted with violet-orange hues. The colour looks like it’s been painted to foreground the simulation of the setting sun before it. Keith looks down, noticing the holographic dusty and rocky ground beneath his feet and sucks in a breath.

“Shiro,” Keith murmurs, tugging on his Galran arm, and feels a smile creep unbidden onto his face. He’s trying desperately to absorb the recreation in front of him.

“This looks exactly like the cliff!” He can’t disguise his excitement as the memories flood his mind. It feels like it’s been forever, yet only a brief amount of time had passed since they had found Shiro and lions. The first time Shiro had taken him out there to fly together, sweeping across the sky to meet Keith’s quick dips and loops. Then when the illness had started to set in for real, they rode hoverbikes to get airborne.

Turning to look at Shiro, he finds Shiro already meeting his eyes in earnest.

“You like it.” Shiro’s eyes dip to Keith’s smile, and Keith nods dumbly at Shiro’s return grin. He’s awash in the rays of the fake sun, backlit in a way Keith can only think of as ethereal. Shiro a few years ago, clad in a leather jacket, in this exact position. There’d been a time where Keith thought he’d never see it again.

He realises that they’re standing pretty much flush to each other, with Shiro’s warm hand still pressed firmly between the gap where Keith’s wings meet skin. Something in him aches, hard, and Keith steps away slowly.

“Thank you,” Keith manages, and Shiro nods, pointing him to a lunchbox at the side of the arena. Shiro hurries over to the equipment, attaching the metal wing to his wing wrist, and flexes his shoulders. The responsive prosthetic flares out with his left wing.

With a wingspan that ran over five metres, Shiro had stood out at the Garrison. People used to sneak into his combat classes just to watch him spread the wings he always kept politely tucked inwards.

Keith should know, he was one of them.

‘Magnificent’ and ‘grand’ were words thrown about, but then and even now, all Keith can think is _big_.

Keith swallows and takes a seat at the side of the arena, opening the lunchbox that Shiro had packed for him. Both the quiche and the puff he notes, and hums as he starts eating. He’d definitely been feeling hungrier since this had all started, and Shiro had known to pack more than enough.

He pushes away the strange hardness that rises in his throat at Shiro caring for him, providing for him, especially at this time.

Training is beginning, and while this sunset may be a change in scenery, the set of exercises given by Coran are no less relentless. Keith watches as the paladins are made to tackle a complicated series of spins for hand-to-hand combat. Shiro is doing exceptionally well today, employing the updrafts generated by the arena to roll expertly.

Keith admires his smooth movement through the air, holding the puff to his mouth for a few seconds before he remembers to take a bite. It’s familiar, his turns, and Keith finds himself guessing at his movements before he performs them. Shiro’s always had a strong and swift flight style that Keith could never replicate.

But Shiro isn’t doing exactly what Keith expects.

His turns are _flashier_ , somehow, and Keith lets out a soft huff at a totally unnecessary dive that Shiro does while fending off the bots, complete with a graceful extended right leg and the left tucked inwards.

His wings spread more than needed in Keith’s opinion, which would be dangerous in a real battle situation, but Keith’s eyes go to the way the soft orange light glimmers on his black feathers, splattering them with flecks of gold.

_What’s he doing?_

Keith outright laughs as Shiro extends his arms overhead in a mimic of a superhero.

Then he spirals downwards towards the ground. He’s tucked his wings in, practically free-falling.

 _Oh no._ Keith’s already calculating if he’ll be able to catch him, showing his own wings be damned. The panicked faces of the other paladins reflect the horror in Keith’s.

Just as he’s convinced Shiro’s faced some sort of fatal wing cramp, Shiro lifts up at the last moment, thrusting his wings outwards so far they block the whole sun from where Keith’s half-risen in shock. He’s created an eclipse, Keith’s mind dully notes, as his whole vision is filled with the expanse of Shiro’s chest to his wingtips.

Shiro’s looking straight at him as he surfaces from the most dangerous manoeuvre Keith’s ever seen, and Keith feels a feral tug deep in his abdomen. Time seems to slow as Shiro’s gaze bores deep into his. Keith swallows, the heat surfacing in his body suddenly dialled up to a furnace.

Fuck.

Shiro’s running his prosthetic through his white shock of hair, standing out against his dark clothes and wing, and Keith needs so much. He needs, and he finds himself in front of Shiro without even remembering that he stood up.

Shiro’s hovering in front of Keith, head cocked to the side in concern, but Keith can only focus on how he’s eye-level with Shiro’s huge chest at this height. It’ll be the end of him.

“Dude.” Lance snaps Keith out of his haze, and Keith realises that the others have landed and are surrounding them.

“Cool flying, Shiro,” he continues, and pats Shiro on the shoulder. Keith wants to rip Lance’s hand away and replace it with his own. “But uh, next time give us some warning man. We all thought you were gonna crash into the ground.”

Shiro laughs self-consciously and rubs his neck, but Hunk’s picking up the thread.

“Yeah man, it was so fancy! What are you doing, like a mating dance or something?” Hunk jokes, and slaps Lance on the back. But Shiro freezes, a slow crimson spreading across his cheeks.

There’s a short silence. “Shiro?” Pidge questions, and squints at him.

“I,” Shiro tries, but he can’t seem to get past that one word and is resolutely keeping his eyes on the ground.

Pidge gives Shiro a slow, careful once-over, and gasps.

“Shiro, are you-you’re in mating season,” she exclaims, and Shiro blinks rapidly, as if he can’t process it.

She then looks to Keith and her eyes widen too. Shit.

Shiro’s looks like he’s shutting down, so Keith guesses it’s up to him.

“Good, um, good training, guys,” Keith tries, and grabs wildly at Shiro’s bicep- arm, he tells himself firmly. Fuck, it’s so big and solid, but Keith has to stay on track.

“I’ll make sure Shiro gets some rest.” He carefully removes the metal wing and loops his arm into Shiro’s.

It’s an unglamorous, long walk to the arena doors but Keith is resolute. He’s also limping because his legs have been slowly turning to jelly the whole morning, but he’s got a handle on this, he has. He’s likewise got a handle on Shiro, who’s being very cooperative and letting himself be guided by Keith.

He feels the eyes of their team on his back until the doors slide shut behind them.

\---

_Okay, Keith. Where the hell is Shiro._

Keith’s sure he deposited Shiro in the leader’s quarters, on his bed to sleep, but he’s not here anymore.

He puts down his own tray of the hot tea and a stack of teeth-rotting cookies he knows Shiro adores and shifts uncomfortably from one foot to another. He’d run into the rest of the team in the kitchen, and that had been its own form of torture.

Pidge had obviously told on them. Keith doesn’t even know why they’d started whispering the moment he grabbed the tea leaves marked ‘SHIRO :)’ and he definitely didn’t want to unpack Lance’s shit-eating grin.

“Um, I’ll be taking some food to Shiro,” he’d said, just to fill the silence. “He, well, um, both of us are gonna take two weeks off training.” He winces at the implication, but he doesn’t trust himself to say more.

Allura had been the only one with enough grace to ask if Keith needed their help to bring supplies to both their rooms.

“Look, I’m not gonna be walking into their territories and get caught up in some sort of hyper jealous mating display,” Lance had screeched.

“Shiro and I aren’t mating,” Keith retorted, then felt his face burn at the thought of Shiro flaring his wings at a rival mate.

“Uh, yeah, sure.” Lance rolled his eyes. “Don’t see anyone else here going into mating season.”

“Just because they’re both entering mating season doesn’t mean they’re mates.” Hunk was trying very hard to be diplomatic, repeating a line that had been drilled into them at the Garrison since they were fledglings.

“There was no one else he could have been dancing for, Hunk, come on! Keith was practically drooling!”

And that’s the most Keith could have stood around for. He’d turned on his heel and fled.

Now he’s faced with another issue, the glaring lack of the Black Paladin in bed, and Keith sighs and walks out of Shiro’s room.

He doesn’t have time. He needs to get Shiro settled before his own need hits him in earnest and eliminates him from thinking about anything other than fucking himself on his fingers.

Maybe the gym, Keith thinks, and he opens the door to his own room to put down the food. Shiro hadn’t taken the news so well. He’s probably working out some tension-

And Keith chokes as he sees Shiro sleeping on his bed.

Not just on his bed, but in the ring of clothes Keith had made, now transported onto the mattress. It seems to have grown bigger, thanks to the clothes Shiro’s added to it. He’s done it so beautifully too, Keith thinks, tracing the way Shiro’s sweaters have been woven neatly into the layers.

Then it really hits him, what Shiro’s done. Building a nest together. Keith can’t think of any other way to interpret this. He sets the food down and stumbles over to the bedside.

Shiro blinks blearily, no doubt still sleeping lightly. He’s on instinctive alert for potential predators because he doesn’t have a mate to protect him, Keith’s brain helpfully supplies, and Keith swallows tightly.

“Shiro?” Keith reaches out and pats his shoulder gently. Shiro turns over, smiling sleepily at Keith. He’s trying to snuggle deeper into the nest and Keith smiles back helplessly.

“Hey Keith,” Shiro mumbles, and yawns widely. “I think I was so tired from the flying.”

He sits up, rubbing at his eyes, and Keith rushes over to grab him the still-steaming tea. “My favourite,” Shiro sighs as he sips at the tea.

There’s a comfortable air between them, and Keith gathers all his courage to climb into the nest too, relishing the comfort that soaks into him.

Shiro hums, looking absentmindedly at Keith, and then to his surroundings. He nods to himself, then does a double take as he realises where he is.

“Keith, god, sorry,” he says, eyes snapping back to Keith anxiously. “I don’t even remember coming here.”

Keith’s heart sinks. He was so foolish to even consider that- what? Shiro might want to spend the mating season with him?

He hurriedly stands, body already missing the warmth of the nest.

“It’s okay, Shiro.” He wraps his arms around himself and pulls his ugly wings in more, if that was even possible. “Just wanted to make sure you were alright, since we’re both going through, um, mating season.”

But Shiro’s not listening. He’s staring at the patterns in the nest around him, wonder in his face.

“The nest is lovely, Keith,” his voice comes out in a rush, as though he’d been holding it back. “I wanted to tell you last time.”

Keith probably takes the compliment too personally, he thinks, even as his chest puffs with pride.

“Thanks, Shiro,” he stammers. “I like your additions to it too.” Keith immediately wants the ground to swallow him up. What the fuck is he doing? He’s probably making Shiro uncomfortable.

“Yeah?” There’s a short pause before Shiro replies, something in the tone of his voice that licks up Keith’s spine.

Keith’s eyes jerk up to see Shiro assessing him with heated eyes as he leans over to set his mug on Keith’s bedside table. This can’t be real, Keith thinks distantly, as Shiro rises from the nest, _their_ nest, and stalks towards him.

He’s too close now, and Keith can’t breathe. He’s digging his nails into his palms for some semblance of stability.

The world is thrown out from underneath his feet when Shiro leans in and whispers, “Did you like how I danced for you, Keith?”

Keith’s brain short-circuits. He lets out an embarrassing whine before he can stop himself, and he looks away immediately. Only his dignity is preventing him from throwing himself at Shiro right now.

“You were dancing for me?” Keith stutters out, and Shiro huffs at him, gently drawing him close. He’s used to having Shiro near, but now the part of him that wants to mate absolutely luxuriates in the feeling of a large arm around his back, daunting Keith with its size.

“Only you, baby.”

A cacophony erupts in Keith’s mind at those three words, and finally he permits himself to look, encouraged by Shiro’s hand on his cheek. The want in Shiro’s eyes scares him in all the right ways, but Keith needs to be sure.

“Just because,” Keith says deliberately, “we’re both going through mating season now doesn’t mean we should, you know, mate.”

He puts his hands on Shiro’s chest to push him away just a little for air, and Shiro steps back at once. Keith mourns the loss of his closeness, and Shiro’s mouth is downturned now.

_Great job Keith, you ruined the mood._

But Keith knows he has to be certain. He doesn’t want to wake up sated but drenched in regret.

“Keith.” Shiro’s lightly tangling his fingers in Keith’s, and he’s glad for how much it grounds him. “Why did you get me all this food?”

Keith blinks at the wholly unexpected question. “Um. I just, I just really wanted to feed you.” Once the words are out of his mouth, Keith knows they’re practically an admission. His cheeks flame.

“Yeah, Keith.” Shiro soothes Keith’s embarrassment, humming softly at him. “Did you know I didn’t go through mating season at all after we left for Kerberos? Not, um, not enough food in captivity, I think.”

Keith sees the pain cross Shiro’s face and pulls Shiro into a hug at once, holding him tight. Shiro inhales deeply and Keith hears his heartbeat settle into regular, calm intervals. Then Shiro gently leads them to sit on the edge of Keith’s bed.

“Not that I don’t want to hug you Keith, but I think we need to talk about this.” Shiro’s eyes crease at the corners as Keith cradles Shiro’s prosthetic hand between his own and nods.

“I think my body sensed that I was well again. I’m comfortable here. Kept full by my friends and kept from danger by my best friend who protects me.” He looks meaningfully at Keith, and Keith remembers how Shiro had been petrified in the face of an incoming training bot during a session gone awry.

Keith had cut it down with a little too much relish.

“It’s not just that you’re also going into mating season, Keith. I think the moment you rescued me, back on Earth, I felt safe again.” Shiro studies their interwoven fingers.

Keith needs Shiro to know it had been the same, just how much colour had returned to his world when Shiro had come back to him, just how much anger and resentment he’d felt had dissipated once he’d cradled Shiro in his arms again.

“So I want to mate you, Keith” Shiro says, and it’s like fireworks go off in Keith’s mind. He feels like crying and laughing all at once, and he squeezes Shiro’s hands hard.

“But I know I’m not the ideal mate,” Shiro continues, and Keith frowns, confused.

“I’m not- well, I’m not colourful at all,” he elaborates, gesturing to the heavy, dusky wing that’s been comfortably framing Keith’s shoulders and keeping him warm. “I can’t fly without a prosthetic. If you don’t, if you don’t want this, Keith, I completely understand.”

_Whoa, whoa, what?_

Keith sees red and jumps up to stand in front of Shiro. No one talks about Shiro like that, not even Shiro. Keith fists two hands in the infuriatingly tight shirt Shiro always wears. “Shiro. I couldn’t take my eyes off you today,” he declares, and Shiro’s eyes widen, as if there weren’t five other witnesses to the endless depths of Keith’s thirst just a few hours prior. “I don’t give a damn if you’re colourful or not.”

Keith touches his forehead to Shiro’s. “You’re kind, Shiro, and you’re so good. You’re such a good man and I can’t believe that you danced a mating dance for me today.”

Shiro looks like he’s going to cry, and Keith releases his shirt to smooth his thumbs over Shiro’s cheeks. Keith swallows, and confesses, “I didn’t think you’d want anything to do with my wings, either.”

It’s Shiro’s turn to look upset, and Keith’s heart skips a beat at his protectiveness. He knows the feeling intimately.

“Is this why you’re always folding your wings, Keith?” Shiro lightly touches Keith’s first wing joint, arching above his shoulder, and Keith trembles.

“I don’t want it to be a reminder to you.” Keith ducks his head as his voice shakes and remembers how Allura had stared with hatred at his wings after returning from the trials. How Shiro had turned away from them just yesterday. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep them in when we mate, I won’t-”

He’s cut off by a growl that he realises had come from Shiro, and he’s stunned when Shiro tugs him forward so that he’s practically sitting in Shiro’s lap.

“Can I, Keith?”

Shiro’s hands are hovering over the area where Keith’s wings protrude from his body. Struck dumb, Keith nods, and Shiro proceeds to press into the tender skin there with his fingertips. The moment they dig into Keith’s muscles, Keith _cries out_ , loudly and with abandon, and his wings unfurl violently.

All the tension he’d held in his body with the effort of keeping his wings as unobtrusive as possible, seem to seep out of his bones. Shiro’s fingers are still kneading expertly at the base of his wings, and he fights not to let out a groan as a shudder wracks his body.

Slumping against Shiro, Keith finally relaxes for first time in the past few days.

He feels Shiro comb through the messiness of his feathers; a tangled mess thanks to Keith’s hesitance to even look at them. It’s so comfortable and intimate to have someone else groom him for once since his dad passed, and he buries his head in the curve of Shiro’s neck.

A moment passes as Shiro gently runs his fingers through them.

“Beautiful,” Shiro murmurs, and Keith clings tighter to Shiro, revelling in the praise. “Turn and look, Keith.”

Keith glances over his shoulder and meets his own eyes in the mirror on the far side of his room. He doesn’t recognise himself, hair mussed and cheeks reddened, with crimson wings flared out to their full reach on either side. His feathers have been made glossy from how Shiro has tended to them, and Keith flaps them once tentatively.

The muscles of his back shift in tandem under his thin grey shirt, and Shiro runs his hands admiringly over his primaries.

Keith’s suddenly reminded of how large Shiro’s hands are as they slip back around his waist, holding Keith in place as Keith brackets Shiro’s legs with his thighs.

“I’ve always loved the colour of your wings.” Shiro’s voice is intentional, his eyes capturing Keith’s. “Ever since I met you at the Garrison. The most talented man I’ve ever met, with the brightest feathers I’ve ever seen.”

Keith feels emotion well up in his throat. “But, yesterday morning,” he starts, voice hoarse.

“I was worried you didn’t want to show your wings then,” Shiro cuts in hurriedly. “I could recognise the signs that, um, you were going into mating season. I never meant to make you feel like you had to hide them from me, Keith.”

He leans forward to press a kiss to the arch of Keith’s left wing, and Keith’s chest aches.

“Even though,” Keith pauses to take a deep breath. “Even though you know it’s because I’m part Galra?”

“Ulaz rescued me, Keith. You rescued me. You being Galra, knowing your past, that’s important. But it’s also just another part of you.” Shiro places a warm palm to Keith’s sternum. “Nothing could ever change how I feel about you.”

He looks away and then back to Keith, tongue darting out to wet his lips.

“I swore I’d tell you, Keith,” Shiro says. “If I ever got out and made it back to you.”

The quiet in the room is punctuated with their heavy breathing. Keith puts a hand over Shiro’s, and Shiro holds it tight.

“I love you.” Keith thought it was coming, but nothing can prepare him for hearing the actual words. He’s shell-shocked. Shiro brings Keith’s hand to his lips.

“I love you, Keith, so much.”


	2. ride like a pony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith’s back suddenly hits the bed, wings cradled by the edges of their nest. Shiro straddles his waist and fixes his mouth to his, only pausing to gently pull Keith’s shirt over his wings. 
> 
> “I want to be so fucking good for you,” Shiro whispers harshly into his mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> unrealistic refractory periods? unbelievable amounts of bodily fluids? shiro's unwavering stamina? it's all part of mating season baby

It’s the end of Keith’s patience. He grabs Shiro’s face and kisses him, the building heat in his stomach igniting into a bonfire. Shiro hauls him closer and they tip into the bed, into the nest that is _theirs_ , and Keith whines. He’s ravaging Shiro, licking into his mouth and pulling at Shiro’s shirt.

“Fuck, Keith,” Shiro gasps wetly, as Keith pants into his neck. He holds Keith’s hips down with a snarl and grinds up into them.

Keith is lost. He needs Shiro out of his shirt, now, and he tries to communicate as much in between the pretty purple marks he’s drawing down Shiro’s neck.

“Please, Shiro, please-”

He’s squirming in Shiro’s lap so much Shiro has to use his prosthetic arm to hold Keith in place.

“Yeah, anything for you baby, anything,” croons Shiro, as he pulls the offending garment over his head in one swift motion. Keith can’t tear his eyes away from the expanse of Shiro’s skin and has to remind himself to breathe, hands sweeping all over his broad chest.

“You like this, sweetheart?” Shiro’s arching his back on the bed so that his chest is highlighted even more, and Keith traces the hard muscle of Shiro’s abdomen.

“I was showing off for you during the dance, baby-,” Shiro pants into Keith’s mouth.

 _Fuck._ Keith crawls down Shiro’s torso, licking at the heavy lines of Shiro’s pectorals, and Shiro cries out, chasing the touch. The taste is overwhelming, his mind foggy with the need to melt into Shiro, and Keith can’t get enough.

Keith leans down and bites his ear, earning him another tremor from Shiro. “Takashi,” he moans, grinding down hard on Shiro to feel the hardness there. Shiro groans and runs his hands down Keith’s back to cup his ass.

“You’re such a good mate to me, Shiro.” Keith palms himself through his sweatpants, desperately needing some friction. Shiro shudders fiercely at the sight of Keith, and even more at his praise.

Keith’s back suddenly hits the bed, wings cradled by the edges of their nest. Shiro straddles his waist and fixes his mouth to his, only pausing to gently pull Keith’s shirt over his wings.

“I want to be so fucking good for you,” Shiro whispers harshly into his mouth.

He holds Keith’s wrists above his head with one broad palm and Keith feels like screaming with want. He tries to jerk his body up to meet Shiro’s but Shiro only pushes him down into the mattress firmly. Keith flexes his wings, plumping out his feathers, and Shiro inhales sharply as he gazes down at him.

Keith can only imagine what he looks like now, moaning wantonly into a pillow, his dick straining at the band of his sweatpants.

“You’ve got your secondaries out for me baby,” Shiro dumbly, sounding like he’s in awe. He strokes the sensitive feathers there, and it feels so good Keith could cry. He’s thrashing now, shaking with every touch of Shiro’s fingers, and Shiro calmly holds him down.

“You have to tell me what you want, Keith.”

Shiro hooks a hand under Keith’s knee and spreads him wide. Keith catches a glimpse of the base of his sweatpants in the mirror, stained a pool of dark grey.

Shiro’s eyes widen as he lifts Keith’s left leg to get a better view, bending Keith almost flat. Keith’s so exposed and so embarrassed, and he still can’t help how his pants get even wetter with how close Shiro’s face is to them.

“You’re leaking,” Shiro says, mouth inches from the pool of slick. He leaves Keith’s leg hooked over his elbow and presses the pad of his index finger to the darkest area of Keith’s pants.

“Shiro!” Keith shrieks, as he feels his hole clench down on the thin material, more slick pulsing out and wetting Shiro’s fingers.

Shiro only pushes his metal finger deeper, and Keith’s legs jerk violently. “Were you gonna walk around with all this slick leaking out of you tomorrow, huh, baby?” Keith fights against Shiro’s hold to move his hips downwards on Shiro’s finger, but there’s no give.

“Letting everyone see you like this, dripping all over,” Shiro continues. He pushes his finger in to the first knuckle through the cloth, and Keith’s eyes roll back into his head. “Would you let anyone else do this, Keith?”

Keith tries to protest, he really tries, but all that comes out are little gasps as Shiro begins to fuck him slowly with one finger.

“Would you let Hunk do this?” Shiro’s voice is hard. “I saw him hanging all over you this morning.”

 _Hunk?_ _What?_

Keith has enough in him to shake his head even as he finds a little leverage to fuck himself down a little more. Keith’s letting out little squirts of slick with every light press of Shiro’s finger in him, and his pants aren’t even off. 

Then Shiro pulls his finger out. Keith wants to sob. He’s still moving his hips down, but now there’s nothing there. “Use your words, baby,” Shiro says, face expectant.

“I,” Keith starts, and it takes some time for him to answer. “I didn’t even know that Hunk was doing that.”

Shiro runs his cool metal palm down Keith’s torso and Keith shivers.

“He was parading for you, baby.” Keith’s sure that Shiro misunderstood, although he watches as Shiro’s eyes harden. “But I’m the only one who can make you feel good.”

Keith gasps as Shiro grabs his waistband and tugs his sweatpants off swiftly. Then Shiro lifts Keith’s legs, buries his head between Keith’s thighs, and Keith is _gone_.

Shiro’s tongue laves over his hole, and Keith keens, hands grasping at the sheets in their nest. Keith’s writhing, his legs trembling as Shiro spreads his legs wider.

“Ah, Shiro-” Keith’s helpless to stop the sounds spilling from his lips. Shiro licks into him hotly and has to hold Keith’s hips down as Keith’s legs kick out in pleasure.

“You taste so good, Keith,” Shiro pants out, and goes back to fucking Keith on his tongue. It feels so good, and Keith thinks he’s going to die with Shiro’s tongue in him. He’s incoherent now as Shiro licks all the slick out of him.

Shiro’s shoulders flex as he presses his face into Keith’s hole, lapping at him like a starving man. Keith wheezes with every thrust, the heat in his stomach unbearable, and meets Shiro with his hips.

“Fuck, Shiro, fuck, fuck,” Keith cries, and Shiro answers with even harder thrusts of his tongue. It’s too much, and Keith arches out of the nest, hands digging into Shiro’s scalp as he comes. White splatters on his stomach as he squirts slick out of his hole all over Shiro’s face.

Shiro eats him through it as Keith cries out, licking up all the slick he can with Keith shoving Shiro’s face between his legs.

Keith is gasping as he comes down from the high, wings fluttering, legs still flung over Shiro’s arms. Shiro’s a mess with Keith’s slick in his hair and dripping down his chin. He kisses up Keith’s leg, and Keith moans in satisfaction.

“You sound so pretty when you come, Keith,” Shiro murmurs, and Keith can feel himself flushing as he stares into Shiro’s dark, hungry eyes. “Look at you, darling.”

He plays with Keith’s sopping hole, fingers sliding in and out, and Keith jerks against them. “So wet for me, so beautiful.”

Keith’s face burns and the feeling of emptiness hits him hard again as Shiro kneels on the bed over him, adjusting his hard dick in his training pants. Tight on regular days, the front of Shiro’s pants now bulge obscenely, and Keith feels himself salivate. His mate has a fucking huge dick, and he hasn’t come yet.

Keith gets up on shaky knees and Shiro reaches out to steady him. “Keith?” Shiro’s confused tone changes into a choked breath as Keith turns his back to him and lowers his chest onto the bed.

Keeping his eyes on Shiro, Keith slowly dips his spine and slides into a deep arch, his hips lifted so Shiro can see the slick spread over his inner thighs. Shiro’s breathing hard, hand wrapped vicelike around his cock through his pants and eyes glued to Keith, entranced. Keith fans his wings out delicately and sees Shiro swallow as he tilts them to show off the undersides.

He keeps his eyes heavy-lidded as he reaches under himself to hold his hole open with two fingers, his other hand perched on the rim of their nest. His fingers slip a little through the wet, but he digs them into the soft flesh there, and Shiro lets out a groan.

“Takashi,” Keith breathes. “Fuck me?”

Shiro looks like he’s been punched in the chest. He peels off his pants, not once taking his eyes off Keith, whose hand is trembling with the effort of maintaining the position. Shiro’s dick is finally bare, and its so big Keith wants to choke on it.

Shiro leans over him and Keith exults in the warm press of his body over Keith’s. Shiro’s shoulders are so broad he comfortably covers Keith’s, and he thumbs at Keith’s lower lip.

“Fuck, Keith,” Shiro whispers, as Keith sucks on his finger. “You’re so pretty. Do you have any idea what you do to me? Presenting for me like this, baby?”

Keith just moans as Shiro presses down on his tongue. Shiro shifts, and Keith’s ready to get pounded into the mattress, but Shiro only kisses down the arch of Keith’s spine. Keith huffs in complaint, and he feels Shiro smile into his skin.

“Slowly, baby.” Shiro soothes, sliding his hands up and down Keith’s back until Keith sinks fully into the bed, drunk on the slide of Shiro’s skin on his. “After all, we’re going to be doing this for two weeks.” Keith whimpers into a pillow.

Keith’s ass is lifted sharply into the air now, slick running in rivulets down his thighs. He can only be patient for so long.

“I want your cock, Takashi,” he whines, and breaks his stance to try and reach for Shiro.

But Shiro places a heavy hand on Keith’s back and Keith pauses.

“Will you trust me, Keith?” He runs his fingers through Keith’s hair, shushing Keith’s weak cries. Keith can see how wet Shiro’s cock is with precome, a thick vein running up the side. It’s just there, fucking hell, hanging thick and heavy against his thigh.

It takes every single ounce of Keith’s self-control, but he settles back into presenting his wet hole to Shiro, pulling it open even wider, and Shiro exhales shakily.

There’s a beat of silence. Then Shiro’s suddenly pushing three fingers into Keith, and Keith’s whole world narrows down to the slow slide of Shiro’s fingers into Keith’s hole. The wet sounds that Keith’s hole is making are utterly dirty, and Keith can’t help clenching down hard on Shiro’s fingers.

Keith expects Shiro to fingerfuck him again, but Shiro continues pressing in in a long drag. He can feel himself stretching out around the breadth of Shiro’s prosthetic fingers and emits a punched-out moan. Turning his head, he sees the shine down Shiro’s forearm as his slick dribbles down.

“You’re opening up so well, Keith.” Shiro’s voice is thick with want, and Keith arches his back more in response, earning him another hand stroking his feathers.

Shiro keeps pushing in and in, and Keith feels like he’s going to pass out from how good it feels to be filled, inch by inch. He’s drooling onto the mattress.

Then Shiro’s fingers glance off Keith’s prostate, and Keith wails, a small wave of slick spurting from his hole.

“That’s right, baby,” Shiro growls, and he removes his fingers only to shove them back into the same spot. Keith screams, wings flinching against his back, and he feels his dick drip onto the sheets.

Shiro starts relentlessly fucking his fingers into Keith’s prostate, and Keith feels his brain melt out of his ears. With every thrust, Keith’s legs shake, and he feels the puddle of his come between his knees grow, intermixed with the endless stream of slick flowing out of his hole.

“Ah, Shiro, please-” Keith pleads, tears building at the corners of his eyes.

He’s doing all he can to clench down on Shiro’s fingers, the muscles of his back rippling as he tenses again and again. It feels so good it’s overwhelming, and when Shiro adds a fourth finger, he yells so loudly he’s sure the sound echoes around the whole castle.

“I know, I know, let me hear you baby,” Shiro groans, reaching out to move Keith’s arm away from his mouth.

Keith’s unaware that he’d been biting on his fingers to muffle the shameless sounds he’s been producing, but now he has no option other than to moan loudly each time Shiro pounds his prostate and hope none of the other paladins are near the room.

Shiro’s working his fingers even deeper, and Keith screams so much his voice goes hoarse, knees giving out under him. Shiro holds his waist up from behind, still moving his fingers, and Keith’s orgasm sweeps through him, spurts of come dirtying the sheets below him and slick squirting from his ass so hard he hears the shower of droplets fall on the bed.

“So good, Keith,” Shiro groans, “so good for me sweetheart, what a perfect mate.”

Keith slumps on his back, winded, and Shiro leans over him again to capture his mouth. Keith can taste himself all over Shiro, and he moans into Shiro’s mouth.

Shiro draws back to cradle his cheek, looking at him like he’s something precious. Keith feels like he can be like this forever, enveloped in Shiro. But then he looks down and sees Shiro choking the base of his dick with his hand. It looks agonising, and Keith wants, no, he _needs_ to provide.

He rearranges them so that Shiro lies back down in the nest, and Keith’s sitting in his lap with Shiro’s fat cock between his ass cheeks. Shiro looks like he wants to get up, but Keith just presses his shoulders down.

“It’s my turn, Takashi.”

Shiro’s pupils are blown wide as he stares up at Keith, neck and shoulders dotted with all the marks Keith’s left on him. Keith presses on one now as he bends down to suck at Shiro’s nipple, and Shiro bucks, hand flying up to tug at Keith’s hair.

Keith sits back up once he sees desperation in Shiro’s eyes, biting Shiro’s nipple and enjoying the little whine Shiro makes. Shiro’s just trailing his eyes down the long line of Keith’s neck, so Keith exploits this, arching his back and grinding down just shy of Shiro’s cock.

“Keith.” Shiro’s looking horribly frustrated. Keith smooths his hands down his own thighs, biting his lip and looking down at Shiro.

“Keith, come on,” Shiro whines, jerking his hips up to meet Keith’s. “Please, Keith, please.”

Keith toys with Shiro’s dick, reaching behind himself to catch it against his rim a few times. It slips in a few times, but only the tip, and by the third time Shiro’s writhing hard against the bed.

“Keith,” he cries out. Keith’s loose hole is already spilling slick out onto Shiro’s dick, so Keith acquiesces and sits on it.

Shiro’s panting, chest heaving with the effort of staying still as Keith pushes down. The stretch is immense, and Shiro’s trembling hands come up to sit around Keith’s waist, his fingertips almost meeting in the middle.

How big Shiro is compared to him is something that haunts Keith daily, but the reminder is most stark when Shiro’s got his hands spanning Keith’s waist and his huge dick seated in him.

The moment Shiro’s fully sheathed in Keith, Keith feels the edge of Shiro’s dick press up against his prostate and Keith’s dick gives a small spurt of come that spills onto Shiro’s abdomen.

“Fuck,” Shiro groans, and there’s a loud squelch as Keith shifts in Shiro’s lap. Keith looks down and he can’t understand what he’s seeing. There’s a big protrusion in his lower stomach, and as he unconsciously moves his hand over it, he’s hit with the realisation.

_Fuck, it’s Shiro’s dick._

It’s so big he can see the head of it under his skin, and Keith chokes. He meets Shiro’s eyes and sees the moment when Shiro understands.

Shiro abruptly lifts onto his knees, carrying Keith with him, and his enormous left wing spreads out. It’s so large it reaches beyond the edge of Keith’s bed, and Shiro curls it under and around Keith. It envelops Keith in the smell of his mate, and Keith feels a sense of _safe_ sink into his bones.

“Takashi,” Keith whimpers, but Shiro’s already moving, thrusting hard into Keith. Keith’s fixated on the bump that moves with every push of Shiro’s cock into him, and Keith’s dick leaks copiously. He realises in a daze that he’s come untouched multiple times, and his dick is refusing to stop.

Shiro’s grunting each time he slams into him, so hard and strong that Keith doesn’t even need to beg him for more. His feathers rub against Keith’s as they move, driving Keith wild with the added stimulation.

“So perfect, baby, look at you,” Shiro praises, punctuating his words with a drive of his cock deep into Keith’s guts. It’s so much, and Keith convulses as Shiro shoves into his prostate repeatedly; his slick making a sloppy mess of Shiro’s muscled thighs. “My mate taking my fucking cock so well, fuck.”

“Ah, ah-” Keith’s reduced to little gasps as he fucks himself back onto Shiro, but he soon tires, and it’s just Shiro moving him up and down on his dick. He feels a bit like a toy being used by Shiro, he’s so blissed out of his mind. His vision gets a bit hazy. Shiro slows down.

“-Keith, baby?” Shiro’s been calling him for a while now, voice tight with concern.

It’s a crime that his dick has stopped moving. Keith’s just impaled like this, on Shiro’s fat cock, and he squirms impatiently on it.

“No, Takashi,” Keith cries, and Shiro looks like he’s going to lift Keith off and he _can’t_. “Please, I need it!” His cries escalate in apprehension, and Shiro quickly runs his palms down Keith’s wings to calm him.

“It’s okay. I’m not going anywhere, baby, I promise,” Shiro pitches his voice low, and rubs his neck against Keith until Keith stops panic-clenching down on Shiro’s cock. “You went unresponsive there, Keith. I was worried.”

Keith shakes his head fiercely and grinds down as Shiro groans. “I want you to fuck me hard, please, Takashi. Come inside me,” he babbles.

Keith stops begging to push Shiro’s dick further in him with his hands although he knows already it’s all in him, and he doesn’t realise he’s sobbing until he tastes his tears. Shiro’s thumbing over his cheeks, wiping his tears away, looking simultaneously shocked and turned on.

The ache is too much.

“Move, Shiro,” he keens, kicking his feet into Shiro’s back and pressing his hands hard on his abdomen just to see that Shiro’s dick is still pushing out. “I need you to breed me, please Shiro-”

Keith’s cut off by Shiro ramming him back into the wall of their nest, his fat dick filling Keith’s hole so well, and Keith squeals into Shiro’s mouth. Shiro’s jaw is set, the lines of his cheekbones in high relief in the cold white light of Keith’s room. He looks exactly like how he did in the Garrison, capable and determined, and Keith sighs.

 _He’s so pretty_ , Keith’s dick-addled brain thinks. “All mine,” his mouth says out loud, and Shiro sucks a bruise into Keith’s neck, one he knows will be visible over all his clothes.

“Yeah, baby,” Shiro kisses him lightly, and murmurs, “all yours.”

Then he slowly raises Keith’s legs so his ankles hang on Shiro’s shoulders. Keith easily bends into the stretch as the new angle has Keith seeing stars. Shiro’s dick burns a hot line down his slick glands to his prostate, and Keith goes cross-eyed as Shiro presses his fingers to where they’re joined, nudging the rim so that slick spills onto them.

“Keith, god, you’re magnificent.” Shiro’s feeding Keith his own slick now, and Keith takes Shiro's fingers deep into his mouth, giving them a hard suck as he clenches around Shiro lazily. He’s all laid out like this, on full display for Shiro, and his mate is groaning.

“I’m gonna fuck you so good, you’ll never be able to take anyone else again,” Shiro croons, as Keith moans around his fingers, dutifully licking around his knuckles. “You’ll be knocked up tomorrow and you’ll get all fat on what I give you, baby.” Shiro’s words lower to a growl, and Keith keens.

Shiro starts rocking his hips into Keith, finally thrusting into him so hard Keith has to hold on to the wall and the bedframe to keep from sliding out of the nest. Shiro’s dick is fed to him slowly but hard each time, and Keith feels his dick leak again onto his stomach. It’s nothing compared to Shiro’s fingers and tongue, the rough slide of Shiro in him punching his come out of him.

He squirts a little from his hole when Shiro hits his prostate especially hard, but Shiro’s cock is so huge the slick just trickles out around it with a lewd sound. Shiro groans at the sensation and folds Keith further, driving into him in a way that causes Keith’s legs to jolt in the air.

“Look at you,” Shiro pants out, all the muscles in his abdomen flexing as he pounds into Keith. “Sitting so prettily on my cock.”

Keith doesn’t even deign to reply. He’s full on sobbing, the praise and pleasure too much as Shiro fucks into him so much his cock spurts again and again. The tears roll down his cheeks and drip onto his collarbone as he tilts his head up to look at Shiro, shuddering in time with Shiro’s thrusts.

Shiro’s cock leaks a little in him as he stares, unbelieving, at Keith’s red-rimmed eyes and tear-tracked face. “You need my cock so much you’re crying, baby,” he murmurs, kissing Keith’s forehead.

Keith just sobs all the harder in response, his dick giving up the last of his come on Shiro’s stomach. He’s been fucked empty and his mind has gone blank. He’s clinging to the fat cock still being shoved into his hole, everything else a blur. Keith's mouth is hanging open, his eyes open but unseeing and Shiro swears.

Keith’s being fucked stupid on Shiro’s huge dick.

Shiro’s slowing a bit from the brutal pace, pulling his dick out and slapping it repeatedly against Keith’s hole before shoving it back in. Keith’s slutty hole still fights to clench down on it as it skims through the glut of liquid there.

Even though he’s been fucking Keith for what seems like an eternity, his hole still tugs on Shiro’s dick as it enters him, and it’s the lingering stretch that does it. Keith manages a gurgle from his throat as his legs lock up and a huge shudder wracks his body as he comes dry.

He clamps down hard on Shiro’s dick as Shiro fucks him through it, relentlessly grinding into his abused prostate and slick glands. He’s squirting repeatedly, slick pouring down Shiro’s dick where it’s being forced out of his body.

“Shiro, Shiro, _Takashi_ ,” Keith bawls. He’s still coming, contracting hard around Shiro, and his legs are jerking like he’s possessed. Their nest is a mess, the cloth torn where Keith had ripped into them while being fucked. He still needs to be filled, though, and he grabs Shiro’s shoulder.

Arching up to his ear, Keith snarls, “In me, Takashi.” Shiro’s hips stutter, and his handsome face is contorted with how tight Keith’s bearing down on him. “Now, I want you to stuff me Shiro-”

With a groan, Shiro gives it to him, burying his dick in Keith and coming hard. Keith screams his name as he feels Shiro spill into him, flooding him, and Keith comes again, clawing down Shiro’s back. There’s too much inside of him and a mix of his slick and Shiro’s come trickle out of Keith’s ass even as Shiro continues to orgasm, firmly locked into Keith.

He collapses onto Keith, one wing huddled up around Keith’s shoulders and Keith hums in satisfaction as he feels his lower belly bloat. He hugs Shiro to him, and sighs as Shiro turns them so they’re resting on their sides, Keith still happily warming Shiro’s cock. Shiro places his firm metal hand on Keith’s full stomach, and Keith tucks his head into Shiro’s neck.

Shiro’s voice comes after a while.

“Baby, that was amazing,” he says, earnestly, and kisses Keith’s cheek. Keith blushes and ducks his head, but Shiro keeps his chin up with a finger. “Gonna get shy on me now?”

Shiro tucks the strands of Keith’s fringe behind his ear and tries to groom Keith’s feathers a little, but they’re so slick-soaked Shiro huffs and gives up. They cuddle, and just when Keith’s getting drowsy, Shiro starts to pull away.

Alarm bells go off in Keith’s head. “No, Shiro,” he cries, feeling Shiro’s dick slip out a little. He makes a mad scramble for Shiro, who immediately wraps him up in his arms.

“I’m not going anywhere, Keith,” Shiro shushes him, kissing down Keith’s jaw. “I just want to clean my mate up so he can rest before we have to mate again.”

Keith’s chest tightens, and he leans into Shiro’s touch. “I love you, Takashi,” he whispers, and Shiro’s beaming. “I love you, and I love your cock.”

Shiro chuckles, echoing around Keith’s small room, and Keith preens at having made his mate laugh. “I know,” he says, and kisses Keith deeply. “I love my mate too, but he has to let me go for a while to the bathroom.”

Keith makes a small, hurt noise as Shiro slips out of him and climbs out of their nest. The come in him escapes his hole, so Keith does the only thing he can think of and shoves three fingers into himself, sighing as the flow is stopped.

Shiro stares at the join of Keith’s legs where he’s plugged it up, and Keith slowly lifts his knee to his chest with his other hand, giving Shiro an unobstructed view. Shiro walks backwards towards the bathroom, eyes never leaving Keith’s hole.

“You’ll be the death of me, Keith,” Shiro chokes out, as Keith splays his wings coyly on the sheets.

“Come back quickly and we can make it happen,” Keith retorts, thrusting his fingers in and out so Shiro can hear the splash of his come deep in Keith. He laughs as Shiro sprints into the bathroom.

\---

Keith’s melting into Shiro’s dick as Shiro feeds it into his wet hole. He’s perched on the countertop, sighing as the tip goes in, and Keith’s wings flap impatiently. Their mating season had ended yesterday with a literal bang; Keith fucking so hard into Shiro the headboard had snapped under Shiro’s hands.

They had finally made it to the kitchen at two in the morning, after Keith had refused to wear anything but Shiro’s Garrison sweater. Residual mating instincts, Keith had argued. Shiro had been looking through the refrigerator, calling out breakfast options to Keith, until Keith had asked him to turn around.

Keith had tried his best to be good, but he’s a slut for his mate.

He’d met Shiro’s eyes as he’d lifted his legs onto the counter, one after the other, and then spread his thighs to reveal his dick leaking onto Shiro’s sweater. The sweater, which had barely hidden anything, pooled around Keith’s hips as he’d spread his hole with both hands. A drop of his slick had dripped onto the counter, and Shiro had lost it.

Now, Keith’s looping his arms around Shiro’s neck and leaning into the stretch as Shiro seats himself in Keith.

“Fuck, Keith,” Shiro moans, as he spanks Keith’s ass hard. Keith jerks, and a wave of slick drips out onto the kitchen floor. He’s pounding Keith now, driving so deep into Keith’s prostate with a practiced ease. Keith can feel Shiro in his throat.

Then a voice rings out in the darkness and Shiro freezes.

“You guys finally done with the mating?” Lance asks from the doorway, rubbing his eyes. “Hunk and I have barely gotten any sleep from the way you guys have been screaming.”

“Yeah,” Hunk agrees. “Glad you guys are okay, man, but I thought you were literally torturing Keith, Shiro. The way he was shrieking, dude.”

He reaches for the light switch. The brightness that floods the room stings Keith’s eyes and he instinctively clenches down on Shiro’s dick, which leaks a little into him.

Thankfully, Shiro’s back is to the other two paladins, but it doesn’t make it any less painful as Shiro turns his head slowly to face them. Lance and Hunk are gaping openly. A red blush has overtaken Shiro’s face, but there’s no mistaking the possessive grasp Shiro has on Keith’s thigh, holding him open.

“Shiro!” Lance yells, throwing his hands up to peek out from behind his fingers, and Shiro tries to turn to him more to apologise. “No stop!” Lance’s voice is reaching a feverish pitch. “Don’t move an inch! If you move I can see all of Keith and you and I don’t want to!”

Shiro meekly turns back to Keith, pushing his dick back into Keith, and a moan slips from Keith’s lips.

“Mullethead, stop getting off on this, oh my god,” Lance wails, and directs a fully sheepish Shiro towards the door. Hunk has hidden himself behind the refrigerator. Shiro lifts Keith easily and carries him to the exit, Shiro’s dick still firmly buried in him.

Keith preens a little at this show of strength from his very worthy mate, while Shiro turns to blurt out a quick apology to Lance in the doorway.

“Ugh, why,” Lance cries. “Shiro I can see Keith’s whole ass, just go away!”

Shiro’s eyes widen and he just hikes Keith up and runs down the hallway, chased by lamentations of “I respected him, Hunk! I can’t ever see him the same way again!” and Hunk’s pacifying mumbles.

Once they’re back in Keith’s room, Shiro lets Keith down onto the ground gently and groans.

“Keith, they’re never gonna let us live this down.” He leans back against the door and sighs dramatically. Laughing, Keith tiptoes to take each of Shiro’s hands into his and interlaces their fingers.

“It’ll be alright, Shiro. They know we’re mates now,” Keith says sweetly, and Shiro gets distracted by how the collar of his huge sweater slides off Keith’s shoulders.

“Uh huh,” Shiro agrees, nodding absently as Keith presses kisses to Shiro’s knuckles and slowly sinks to his knees. Keith spreads his wings, knowing now that Shiro enjoys seeing the softer inner feathers. Sure enough, Shiro’s eyes immediately lock on to the soft plumage, hips twitching forwards unconsciously.

“The way you picked me up just now,” Keith croons. “So strong, baby.” He wraps a hand around Shiro’s dick, still soaked in Keith’s slick from earlier, and Shiro’s head falls back against the door. 

“You still want more, baby?” Shiro moans, but his hips are already bucking in anticipation.

Keith smirks. “Always,” he whispers as he leans in, and if Lance and Hunk miss out on more sleep that night, Keith can’t bring himself to be sorry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please let me know what you think of this ♡ this is the first fic i've ever fully written and posted. i had so much fun doing it! find me on tumblr at [@mmarmora](https://mmarmora.tumblr.com/).


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